


Sin of the Lips

by ThunderThighsMish (Voib)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asphyxiation, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon Powers, Demon/Human Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Power Play, Priest Castiel (Supernatural), Priest Kink, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22869169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voib/pseuds/ThunderThighsMish
Summary: Dean was hungry for corruption, searching for an easy soul to steal. He got more than he bargained for in priest Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	Sin of the Lips

**Author's Note:**

> I totally just wrote this. Not edited or even read for clarity. I like to live on the wild side. 8)

Sin was like blood on the tongue—rich iron that sated a primal urge. It wasn’t supposed to be something that you’d want to taste, but everyone inevitably did it. It was natural.

Dean thought that he could corrupt the priest easily. His morals were loosely tied, thread-thin, easy to pick apart. But what made the priest a once easy target turned him into a monster in himself. Corrupted already enough to make him smart, sharper than a blade, and someone Dean underestimated. It was why Dean had been the one, in return, to be caught up in his own trap.

The priest must have had similar thoughts on demons. If they were so corrupted, then they couldn’t resist a taste of purity. Dean himself supposed that the analysis was accurate.

Thick straps of leather caressed Dean’s ankles and wrists. The embossed sigils and traps kept Dean from smoking out, suppressed his mojo, and kept him from leaving the rectory, but still allowed him full mobility. Not that Dean _wanted_ to go anywhere.

Castiel had changed him so quintessentially that he didn’t feel the same rage burning at his insides, or the continuous taste of brimstone in his mouth. He was different than he once was. He knew it. Castiel knew it.

With Castiel, things felt different. He was beginning to understand what it felt like to want more than sex out of relationship. He started to crave the moments of quiet, when Castiel tended to the flowers in the sill of the window, when they looked for comfort in each other’s arms.

Things like that were what got him trapped in the first place.

✟

Dead set on making a priest sin, Dean didn’t do his research. He thought he was ready to slip into the consecrated ground (with the help from a spell) and waltz right in. The moment he entered the church, he was caught in a devil’s trap.

The patrons of the church didn’t mind his awkward shuffling near the door while he tried to think of any way to escape the damned thing. He held the door open for an elderly lady and tried to look like a good, hometown boy. The freckles on his meatsuit helped.

Finally, when the Sunday crowd had thinned out and left, did the priest take a notice to him. Sitting on the edge of a pew, picking at his nails, Dean heard footsteps.

“You’re a strange demon,” the man said, brow quirked in curiosity.

He’d been found out already. _Damn_.

“What’s it to you? Gonna exorcise me?” Dean snorted, “Try it.”

“Every one of those people walked through that devil’s trap on the way out of the door, but they all made it to their cars safely.”

A sickly smile crept onto Dean’s lips. “Did you want me to slaughter them? That _can_ be arranged, buddy.”

Sighing, near wistfully, the priest replied, “You’re harmless.”

Heat and anger rose in Dean’s chest, and he stood to his feet. His energy leaked out of him and saturated the ground, prodding the edges of the devil’s trap. There was a crack, and Dean pushed the energy out through it and into the church, searching.

The priest didn’t jolt when the lost rosary he’d found in a row wrapped around his neck and tightened threateningly. The wraps put pressure on the man’s airway, making him struggle to breathe.

“You’re stronger than I thought,” he said through resistant breaths. His face turned red, but still he replied, “but still weak-willed.”

The rosary loosened and dropped to the wood floor, dragging as it crept towards the devil’s trap. With the sharp edge of the cross scratching out the line of the devil’s trap, Dean felt it give and his power being released into the rest of the church.

He stepped towards the priest, glowering. The light that once streamed into the church dimmed, suppressing the priest’s eyesight, and making him prey.

Raising his arm, Dean sent the man flying down the aisle to the pulpit, slamming into the wooden stand with a groan. He followed the priest, holding him firmly, before he was eye to eye with the man.

Dean finally took in the man’s face, noting vibrant, smart eyes, and an angular face that could cut him. But nothing compared to those fuckable lips.

Dean leaned forward, trailing his bottom lip against the other man’s. Tantalizingly sinful, he brought his lips close when he whispered in the priest’s ear, “You’re weak too.”

And then he kissed him, teasing his lips, drawing out a light moan. Reciprocated easily, the priest was the one to deepen the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
